


Rider on the Storm

by A_Diamond



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2016 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Chair Sex, Coffee Shop, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fallen Castiel, Fluff and Angst, Hunter Retirement, M/M, Mentioned Sam/Eileen, Post-Series, Tender Sex, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 21:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7008802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Diamond/pseuds/A_Diamond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a stormy day at work in a cafe, Cas is surprised by Dean's arrival with important news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rider on the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> For Destiel Smut Brigade Bingo! Squares in a postage stamp pattern: Reading, Restaurant, Bad Weather, Change, and Free Space (Leather, as chosen by my wife):
> 
> Also used to fill my "Domestic/Curtain Fic" square for [SPN Kink Bingo](http://alxdiamond.tumblr.com/kink).
> 
> Thanks to [hit_the_books](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books) for beta reading and [Fic_me_senseless](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Fic_me_senseless) for encouragement!

Rain pounded in sheets against the frosted glass windows, a storm raging its futile fury over the humans sheltered from its downpour inside the small coffee shop. Tucked into a cozy leather armchair near the fireplace, Castiel wasn’t bothered by the blustering bad weather. It, along with the crackle of burning logs, provided him a soothing background soundtrack for the book of early Arabic poetry he was spending the afternoon reading.

He hadn’t moved from that position for several hours, except a few times to tend the fire when it had smouldered to embers. No one was inclined to brave the storm just for a cup of coffee and a slice of pie, no matter how good both were, but he didn’t mind the lack of business. Thursdays were usually slow even in good weather, he got paid regardless, and it gave him time to plan the next week’s menu. Or, as he was doing now, to relax and enjoy the peace.

The rumble of an engine broke through the gentler noises, pulling him out of the Mu'allaqa of 'Antara. It cut out in the parking lot he shared with a bookstore to one side and a smoke shop to the other, so there was at least a chance of him getting a customer.

Sure enough, as he folded the satin ribbon down to mark his place and set the book on the small table, his door creaked open. Howling wind chased the man inside and he hurried to close the door. He was drenched, his short, light brown hair plastered to his skull and water running in streams down his leather jacket.

Then, while Cas was still unfolding himself from the chair, the man locked the deadbolt of the cafe’s front door with an ominous metallic scrape, audible over the pounding rain and snapping fire. He turned slowly towards Cas, who could only wait. They stared at each other for long moments, silence stretching out until an unusually loud pop of steam from the fire made them both startle a little.

When they looked at each other again, the man finally spoke.

“I got it.”

Cas broke out into a smile and Dean grinned back at him.

“I fucking got it!” Dean said again, voice raising in excitement with each word. He dashed across the room, dodging tables and chairs so he could envelop Cas in a hug and swing him around exuberantly.

“Put me down!” Cas demanded gruffly, but Dean’s joy was contagious and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

Still beaming, Dean set his feet back on the floor. Instead of letting go, he pulled Cas in closer and kissed him. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, ignoring the water that soaked through his shirt and the dampness of Dean’s face as he kissed back. Dean’s body was chilled from the storm but his mouth was warm, welcoming Cas’s tongue as it delved inside. His tongue stroked over Cas’s, his lips pressed and sucked, his thumbs rubbed little circles on Cas’s back as he held him.

Dean was always tender with him. Not like he was breakable, which he had been for a while—in some ways, he still was, since he was human now. Breakability and brokenness were, he had found over the years, qualities inherent in humanity. Still, after an initial period of frustrating tentativeness, Dean had overcome most of his concerns.

The way he treated Cas, though, the way he held him and kissed him and loved him—like he was something precious, something valued. It was a heady feeling, one Cas didn’t think he’d ever tire of.

Dean broke away, but didn’t go far. Leaning his forehead against Cas’s, he said, “I can’t believe I actually got the job.”

“I had faith in you,” Cas told him.

Dean snorted. “That’s because you’re a dumbass,” he said fondly. “I’ve never worked an honest job in my life. They had no reason to give it to me.”

“True. I mean, you’re hardworking and loyal and the best man I’ve ever known, but other than that...”

Dean kissed him again, probably just to shut him up.

Soon enough, or maybe after a long while, Cas started to shiver from the water soaking into his clothes. Dean didn’t seem to mind the cold, or maybe didn’t even notice. He was less sensitive than Cas, more used to being affected by temperatures. But he didn’t complain when Cas led him back closer to the fire and unzipped his jacket.

The shirt beneath was mostly dry, but Cas started unbuttoning it anyway once he’d eased off Dean’s jacket, and Dean quickly got the idea.

Then again, Dean had been the one to bolt the door, so he’d likely had the idea before Cas started anything.

Joann, the sweet old lady who owned the cafe and called Cas _honey_ and _dearie_ and _such a nice young man_ , would have fired him in a heartbeat if she’d seen Dean’s naked ass settling into the leather chair and Cas sinking between his legs. As he swallowed Dean down to the root, Cas couldn’t have cared less about her sense of propriety.

Dean’s hand moved down to stroke through his hair, fingers curling gently every time Cas’s tongue flicked across his slit or that particularly sensitive spot just under the head of his cock. Since his last, final fall to humanity, Cas had discovered many new and wonderful things; the ability to draw those soft little gasps and moans from Dean as he slid his mouth up and down, tongue curling, was an easy favorite.

He would’ve been happy to continue in that vein, bringing Dean to climax with a lazy and pleasurable blowjob by the fire and dealing with his own arousal, hard and red between his thighs, afterwards. Dean was equally skilled with his mouth or his hand, or Cas could even jerk himself off—the mechanism didn’t matter as much as the connection to Dean as it happened. But Dean tugged at the top of his head, just hard enough to get his point across.

“Wanna fuck you,” he said when Cas let his dick slide free to look up at him. Since getting fucked by Dean was another newfound favorite, Cas was hardly going to complain about it, but—

“Dean, I’m at work. I don’t exactly keep a bottle of lube behind the counter.”

Dean grinned down at him. “Dude, you’ve been watching humans bone since before KY was used for legitimate medical purposes. Don’t try and tell me the Greeks went in dry.”

“There was nothing voyeuristic about my observations of humanity,” Cas protested. At least, there hadn’t been until Dean. Still, it occurred to him that there was a bottle of sweet almond oil in the kitchen, the one he used to make tart crusts. With one final wet, lingering kiss to the head of Dean’s erection, forcing another little whimper and a helpless jerk of his hips, Cas rose to retrieve it.

He straddled Dean when he got back with a small cup of it, his knees spread against the armrests so he could work himself open. Carefully coating one finger—it would stain the leather if it dripped, and they weren’t in a particular hurry—he reached back and pushed inside himself. After the first brush of resistance it was a familiar slide, the oil a touch chilly but warming quickly with the heat of his body.

Dean was staring down at Cas’s groin in fascination, watching Cas’s finger slip in, so when Cas pulled out to prepare a second finger, he braced his other hand on the armrest and arched his spine back, tilting his hips towards Dean for a better view. The groan he got for pressing both of his slick fingers back in sent a flare of warmth from his chest down to his cock.

With two fingers, Cas started to stretch himself open. It was a good feeling, even if he couldn’t quite get a good angle on his prostate. Then Dean reached forward, and Cas hadn’t even noticed him slicking up but he must have, because his finger pushed in next to Cas’s without resistance.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Dean whispered as he leaned up to claim another kiss. The pad of his finger rubbed against that marvellous spot inside Cas as their lips connected and Cas let out a moan into his mouth.

Dean kept up the massage as Cas did most of the work, which was the opposite of a problem; it was Dean taking care of him again, making sure he was enjoying every moment of their lovemaking. And he was. Dean’s touch shone through his entire body, warmer and brighter than Grace, drawing him slowly but inevitably up to the summit of pleasure.

When he was ready, open and so erect he ached, Cas pulled his fingers free. He expected Dean to follow, but instead Dean lingered behind for a few moments to tease at Cas’s prostate until his dick dripped with precome and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He growled, “Dean, now.”

Dean grinned innocently and pushed against it one more time before obeying. Tender or not, selfless lover or not, he was still Dean Winchester and that made him incorrigible.

Cas found it difficult to be angry about it when Dean cradled Cas’s hips in his hands to steady him as Cas adjusted his position. Holding himself up on the arms of the chair, Cas planted his feet to either side of Dean and let Dean guide him down. One of Dean’s hands fell away from his waist and dropped to his own cock instead, lining it up with Cas’s hole.

The first sensation was pressure, his rim pushing back against Dean’s blunt head as it breached him. Then, with a slow, steady movement, their bodies joined together and he was filled with Dean. Cas let himself adjust, not uncomfortable but also not quite to the height of desperate need Dean had urged him to before.

Dean waited. Though his muscles were tense with the effort of not moving, his grip stayed soft and soothing as he slid his hands back to squeeze and rub at Cas’s spread ass. He tilted his head up again to encourage Cas to lose himself in Dean’s mouth, a hot, wet slide of tongues that made the world slip away from Cas entirely. All that existed was Dean’s mouth on his, Dean’s dick in him, Dean’s fingers kneading the flesh of his cheeks until Cas relaxed even further onto him.

Urged on by the rhythm of Dean’s hands, Cas started to rock. It began as a gentle circling, lifting himself just enough so that he could sink down again and feel Dean shift inside him. Every small movement felt exquisite, more like coming home than Heaven or the bunker—or even the small apartment he and Dean had rented two months ago—had ever felt.

Soon he was using his arms to leverage nearly all the way off Dean’s cock and lower back down onto it, a slow and steady piston that made Cas’s breath catch and Dean’s eyes roll up as his head lolled on the back of the chair.

Trailing a hand up Cas’s back and pausing along the way to trace circles over his skin, Dean waited for Cas to be pressed flush against his lap and then wrapped his hand around one of Cas’s arms, gently pulling it inwards. It took Cas a moment to understand, thoughts confounded by desire, but he let go of the chair and straightened his arms to either side of Dean’s neck instead, supporting some of his weight on the backrest.

Dean inched them down the leather seat together, until he was slouching with his ass right at the edge. The position allowed him to plant his feet firmly on the floor, which in turn let him start to move his hips, fucking up into Cas, who could only cling to the chair as he bounced in his lover’s lap. Each thrust shuddered through him, a sharp spike of raw sensation followed by a spreading flush of desire as Dean’s dick rubbed up and down over his prostate.

Though Cas had long since lost the ability to verbalize, Dean whispered out praise and endearments between grunts: _beautiful_ , _so good_ , _oh God_ , _love you_ , _love you so much_ , _fuck_ , _Cas!_

Dean surged up, crushing Cas to him for a last fevered kiss as they both came, Dean inside Cas and Cas against Dean’s stomach. Panting, they stayed in a tight embrace until their pulses evened out and their muscles started to cramp. Finally, Dean opened his eyes and stared up at Cas in wonder.

“We’re really doing this,” Dean said, and though it was more of a statement than a question, Cas kissed him and said, “Yes.”

“Cas,” he said, almost desperately. “Cas, I have a job. And a lease. And a friggin’ motorcycle. How did that happen?”

“Because, and I quote—” Cas scrunched his face slightly and attempted Dean’s annoyed drawl, “I love Baby but gas is goddamn expensive when you’re paying for it yourself.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again. “I just mean, I can’t believe it sometimes, you know? We’ve got real jobs. Sammy and Eileen own a house. I’ve got you. A year ago, I’d have told you none of this was possible.”

“That’s because you’re a dumbass.”

Dean laughed, then muffled the sound against Cas’s lips. Breaking away, he shoved a little at Cas’s shoulders until the other man climbed off him. They both grimaced down at the mess left behind as Dean also stood.

“Hey,” Dean complained as Cas used Dean’s boxers to wipe himself off. “What am I supposed to wear now?”

Cas offered him his jeans with a wicked smile and Dean’s scowl deepened, though Cas could tell it was an act. Instead of the pants, he snatched his underwear from Cas and wiped at his stomach. After that, he took the jeans and pulled them on commando.

“Clean this place up,” he told Cas as he went in search of where his shirt had ended up. “It’s a health hazard. People eat here, you know!”

Cas threw Dean’s jacket, still slightly damp, at his head on the way to the kitchen for a towel. When he returned to wipe off the chair, fortunately early enough to prevent any staining, Dean was fully dressed and had started collecting Cas’s clothes for him.

Soon, the cafe and everyone in it were back to being presentable.

“It’s still raining pretty hard out there,” Cas observed. “You could stay.”

“Nah. I wanna call Sam, and he’ll probably girl at me for hours. If I stay here too long I’m just going to ravish you again. Besides, it takes more than a little rain to scare me off, right?”

“Hm,” Cas agreed. “I’ll see you at home?”

“Yeah.”

A few more minutes of languid and slightly handsy kissing later, Dean unbolted the door and stepped out into the storm. Cas settled himself back into the chair, even cozier than before and content to read the afternoon away by the fire.


End file.
